Photographs
by Kirby's Cowgirl
Summary: The squad rallies around an injured Kirby


Photographs

"Kirby, you've got to be still." Doc said again, looking in dismay at the fresh blood staining thru his shirt.

Billy Nelson, nursing his own shoulder wound, stumbled to his feet. "He wants his pictures." He said, rummaging thru Kirby's pack, until he found a small oilskin wrapped packet.

Kirby looked frantic, and started thrashing again.

"Nobody's gonna look at 'em." Nelson assured him, staggering toward Doc.

"The hell I'm not!" Terry, one of their replacements, snatched the packet from Nelson.

"Hey!" Billy protested, losing his balance and nearly falling. Kirby made a lunge toward Terry, and fell back with a groan, blood pouring from his chest. Doc gave the replacement a murderous look, even as he jammed more packing in Kirby's wound.

The sound that came from Cage's throat didn't even sound human, and he leapt from his post at the door, his bayonet already in his hand. Littlejohn was closer though. He simply grabbed Terry's free wrist. "I'll snap it clean off," the giant said quietly. "You _hand_ those back to Billy _very_ carefully, and you_ apologize_ to Kirby. NOW!"

"I was just fooling around." Terry whined, as he did what he was told.

"Terry, you take over the watch," Saunders gasped out. He should have had Doc check out his own wound. He _should_ have told Doc to leave Kirby, who they all knew was bleeding to death. He should not have let Cage and Littlejohn dig a bullet out of Billy Nelson. He should not have taken this damn patrol.

He was going to pass out. He'd lost too much blood. Cage and Littlejohn were going to murder Terry, if Doc didn't beat them to it. _Nobody_ messed with one of Doc's patients.

Cage and Littlejohn had both misunderstood the angry look they'd gotten from Saunders, and assumed he was blaming himself for their predicament. Neither of them had any idea he was hit.

Billy struggled to sit down next to Littlejohn, propped against the wall. "Does Kirby have naughty pictures of his lady?"

"She's married, Billy." Littlejohn said quietly.

"Huh?" Nelson's face screwed up in boyish confusion that slowly changed to horror. "You mean, like, to somebody else?"

Littlejohn nodded.

Billy looked at Kirby clutching that tiny oilskin packet in his blood stained fingers, even as he gasped for breath. "He loves her."

"I expect so."

Tears started flowing. "I'm sorry." Billy looked at Littlejohn, like he didn't know what to do.

"Me too," Littlejohn said.

Billy choked back a sob, put his fist in his mouth.

"I'm counting on you to help me tomorrow," Littlejohn told him. "You get some sleep."

" Okay, Littlejohn." Billy stumbled over the words.

Doc started reciting Scripture, and Littlejohn joined him. Cage was sharpening his bayonet, and visibly flinching at every labored breath that Kirby took. Nelson was crying quietly and Saunders knew he had lost the last bit of boyish innocence he had. They all knew that Cage was going to slit Terry's throat when Kirby took his last breath. If he hadn't started himself bleedin' again -

Nothing short of a miracle was going to save them now, and Saunders was fresh out of them.

Then they heard the truck. Nelson stumbled to his feet after Cage and Littlejohn. Terry moved back inside, as Cage rushed past him without a glance.

"Get your ass outside, Terry." Littlejohn said quietly. "I can break A LOT more than your wrist. Billy, you stay here and guard."

"You heard him threaten me." Terry said to Doc.

"I didn't hear a thing." Doc gave him a disgusted look. "And you better not get yourself hurt, because I'm not helping you."

"Sarge -" Littlejohn started, then looked at Saunders in confusion, finally realizing he was wounded.

"Go, Littlejohn!" Saunders gasped out, struggling to swing his Tommy up to cover the door. "Terry, move your ass now!"

Doc started to get up, and Saunders shook his head at him. "I need a clear line of fire at the door. Stay with Kirby." When Nelson looked back at him for instructions, he nodded at the kid. "You're fine where you are, Billy."

"It's okay, Billy!" Cage called, then sprang back thru the door, followed by an entire herd of men. Sergeant Hall, a medic, - hell that was as Doc would say, "A REAL Doctor", and Grady Long. *

Cage had his bayonet in his hand, looking at Kirby, like he was just going to slice his arm open himself and give his best friend every drop of blood he had. The Doctor spared him a glance. "Young man, I need your blood IN this man. Not on the floor. Sit down and roll your sleeve up, and let me see your dog tags."

Cage didn't move, and Doc tugged on his pants leg. "Cage, SIT DOWN! Please put your bayonet away."

That got thru to him, and he slid the bayonet back in its sheath as he sat down next to Kirby and rolled up his sleeve. Doc leaned over and checked his tags, touching Cage's forearm when he saw his confused look. "If we give him the wrong blood type, it'll kill him almost as soon as not givin' him any at all. You're ok. You listen to the Dr."

Cage nodded, and leaned back against the wall. Billy Nelson, struggling to remain upright, started trying to roll up his own sleeve.

"NO!" Littlejohn said. "I'M NEXT. Billy, you are not giving any blood." He sat Nelson down, over his protests.

"Billy, you've lost too much blood already," Doc said, watching the Doctor carefully as he rigged the IV lines. "You sit there and be quiet. We may need you to go to the truck and fetch something." He had no intention of sending Billy anywhere, but figured that would mollify the kid.

"Damn, Chip, I leave you for a couple weeks, and you get your squad shot all to -" Grady broke off when he saw the pool of blood under Saunders. "SHIT! I need a medic over here!"

"Don't move." The Doctor told Doc, and he froze, holding Cage's arm steady.

Sergeant Hall's medic, who had checked Littlejohn's blood type on his dog tags, and was industriously scrubbing his arm, stopped what he was doing, and sprang to help Saunders.

Sergeant Hall started rolling up his own sleeve when he saw all the blood under Saunders. Grady had beat him to it, and was sitting down next to Chip, urging the medic to "do something."

"Grady, leave the man alone." Hall ordered.

"Sergeant Hall, it is your responsibility to get all of us are not giving any blood today," The Doctor said, not looking up from what he was doing. "I'm sure we'll need some more once we get back to the hospital, and THEN you may contribute."

"Yes sir," Sergeant Hall said, gesturing two of his men to go and help his medic.

Lieutenant Hanley stepped thru the door then, and all color drained from his face when he saw that Saunders was wounded too.

"Loo—Loo—tenant -" Saunders gasped out.

"It'll keep, Sergeant." Hanley said.

"Won't -"

Hanley squatted down by Saunders, as he rasped out, " Lost Greene and Dickson. Couldn't even get their tags."

"Just take it easy, Saunders," Hanley said worriedly.

Saunders tried to reach out a hand to him, but fell short, and Hanley caught it. "You just hang on, you hear me? Hell, I even brought a _real doctor_ with me, and I'm sure he'll be over here as soon as he gets Kirby set."

"Get Terry away from Doc. Don't want him in my squad -" and then Saunders faded out.

"Grady, I'll take care of it." Hanley said, seeing the anger on the BAR man's face. He would never have believed how handy his mild mannered medic was with his fists, if he hadn't seen the fury that erupted when a careless soldier jostled one of his patients. Terry must have done something to Kirby. Everybody in the squad was mad.

He went outside and conferred quietly with Sergeant Hall, who shot an appraising glance at Terry. "Dawkins, you go get the BAR from Grady." He said. "He'll be riding in the truck with the wounded. Give your ammo to him." He gestured to Terry.

"Why don't I get to ride?" Terry whined.

"DO NOT EVER question one of my orders. Is that clear?" Hall barked out.

"Sir." Cage started, as he watched his own blood flow into Kirby. "Sir?" he was terrified, but he had to ask.

"Private, I wouldn't do this if he didn't have a chance. In just a minute, when I tell you to, I want you to scoot over on the other side of that big man. DO NOT get up."

"Yes sir." Cage said, and he sighed when they pulled the needle out of his arm. He slid over and sat down next to Billy, who touched his knee gently, then looked embarrassed.

"It's alright, Billy." Cage said tiredly, as Littlejohn took his place. The big man turned completely white when they stuck him.

"Littlejohn, you ok?" Doc asked worriedly.

"Don't stop." Littlejohn said thru clenched teeth. "I'm okay."

"How long has it been since these men ate?"

"We ran out of rations yesterday, sir," Doc answered him.

"Do you feel like you're going to be sick, Private Littlejohn?"

"No sir," Littlejohn said thru clenched teeth.

"Hold this chocolate in your mouth then, and just let it melt. I'm sorry, it's the best I can do right now."

"Give it to Billy." Littlejohn said, eyes closed.

"Don't be so damn stubborn," Doc said. "Open your mouth. I'll save some for Billy and Cage."

"Stop the truck." The Doctor said, thumping on the canvas cover that separated them from the driver.

"What's going on?" Hanley got to his feet at the rear of the truck where he'd been on guard with Grady, who looked like he was going to pass out, be sick, or both.

"Your Sergeant needs some more blood. Are you willing?"

"Of course." Hanley said, carefully wading thru all the wounded soldiers lining the floor. He held out his tags for the Doctor to inspect, and the man gestured for him to sit down.

"What's wrong?" Hall stuck his head inside the flap.

"Chip needs some blood," Grady said. Then, "Oh shit." And he hung his head out the side and vomited.

Hall caught his arm to keep him from toppling to the ground, and Cage took his rifle away from him and took Hanley's vacant seat.

"Shit." Grady said again, looking embarrassed. "I'm sorry." To Hall.

Hall just handed him his canteen to rinse his mouth out with, rummaged in his pocket and came out with a stick of Juicy Fruit.

"I love you." Grady said to him, but there was none of the usual teasing banter in his voice.

"I love you too, Grady." Hall said, grinning.

When the truck arrived at the aid station, they carefully started unloading the wounded, and Littlejohn, Cage, and Grady stayed back against the truck wall out of the way. Hanley dropped down to the ground, dizzy himself, and wondering if he was going to pass out. Billy had stayed in the truck also, and Littlejohn and Cage carefully handed him to Hanley and Doc.

"Billy, sit down until we get everybody else out of the truck." Doc told him. "I don't want you trying to walk by yourself."

"Okay Doc," Billy said, staggering over to the grass and barely managing to sit before he fell.

Grady sat down, took the hands Hanley and Doc offered him, and swung himself to the ground.

"You're going to the aid station too, Grady." Doc warned.

Grady made a backwards swipe of his hand, like, "whatever", but he went and sat down next to Billy.

Littlejohn leaned out the back of the truck, turned green, and fell out on Hanley and Doc. Only Cage grabbing a handful of his web belt and pulling backwards saved them from being flattened.

"Littlejohn!" Doc said, lightly slapping his face. "Littlejohn!"

"Oh shit." The giant said, tears in his eyes, and started throwing up.

"Cage, come on." Hanley said, reaching a hand up to him. "We all need to sit down."

Sergeant Hall and Dawkins came jogging back after carrying stretchers inside. "Sir, if you just sit there, we'll be right back" Hall said to Hanley, as he and Dawkins got Billy to his feet.

"You want us to carry you?" Dawkins asked Billy.

"I can walk." Billy said stubbornly.

"NOT BY YOURSELF!" Doc ordered.

Dawkins slid an arm around Billy's waist, and they staggered toward the aid station. Hall hoisted Grady to his feet, and they followed.

When Littlejohn blinked himself awake, he was in a bed next to Kirby, and he thought he'd been shot. And then he remembered what had happened, and groaned.

"You okay? You need me to get an orderly?" Cage asked, from where he was sitting in the floor between Littlejohn and Kirby's beds.

"Dammit," Littlejohn said, embarrassed.

"It's alright." Cage assured him. "Lieutenant Hanley told Doc you were _never_ to give blood again unless it was a last resort." He grinned at the giant. "Nobody I'd rather have by my side with a rifle, but you don't handle needles too well, big guy."

"Kirby? The Sarge?" Littlejohn looked around. "Where's Billy? We didn't mess up his arm, did we?"

"They said Kirby'd be okay. I didn't even know the Sarge was hit, did you?" When Littlejohn shook his head, and looked anxious, he continued, "He lost too much blood. They said he'd be in here awhile." He pointed to the ward where the more seriously injured patients were quartered. "Grady and Billy went to get a shower. I don't know which one of them is going to hold the other one up, but Doc said they couldn't go by themselves. He's sitting with the Sarge."

Littlejohn looked at the packet of pictures still clutched tightly in Kirby's fingers. "Do you know who she is, Cage? Do you think she loves him?"

Cage shrugged, moved closer to Littlejohn so no one else could hear him. "I think she's an officer. Kirby said something one night when he got a little too drunk, and then he just clammed up."

"He's gonna get himself shot." Littlejohn said. "Should we take those, and hide them, until he gets better?"

"I'm not going to take them away from him." Cage said softly.

"So how you feelin', Littlejohn?" Sergeant Hall asked him, late the next afternoon.

"Bored." Doc had threatened to have him handcuffed to the bed if he tried to get up. They had let him walk to the latrine, but they'd sent two orderlies with him.

Billy was asleep on the other side of Kirby. He had a slight infection, and they'd ordered him back to bed

"You and Cage are gonna be in my squad for a couple weeks. Doc's gonna stay here and help out and hopefully get some rest."

"Terry?" Littlejohn asked.

"In the brig. And he may get court martialed. Hell, I should have just shot him." Hall shrugged. "He and Grady got into it, and he wouldn't back off."

The packet of photos slipped from Kirby's hand and fell to the floor, the pictures spilling out. Littlejohn shot Hall a panicked look. The guys in the nearest beds were trying to see, and Littlejohn knew when he left, they'd be taking the photos away from Kirby.

"Well, damn." Hall said, as he leaned over and picked them up. "That boy's still carrying around those poker markers. I told him he wasn't going to see a dime of that money." He shuffled the photos in his hand, held up one of them. It was of a pretty lady holding a baby. Littlejohn gave a sigh of relief. The pretty lady happened to be Sergeant Hall's own wife. Now if only one of the idiots occupying the closest beds didn't say something nasty about her -

"He's hangin' on to _poker markers _like that?" the guy in the nearest bed said. "I thought he had some _really good pictures_ of his lady."

"You know how Kirby is about money. And he does hate to get fleeced. I guess these are just a reminder." Hall said.

And just like that, nobody was interested anymore. Hall winked at Littlejohn, slid Kirby's photos back in the oilskin packet, and laid it on his chest.

"Now if you want to see a _real looker,_ you should get Littlejohn to show you his fiancés picture." Hall said, grinning.

I don't know why I got so attached to Grady Long. I guess it was other people's excellent stories about him. He doesn't die in my "reality", just gets transferred into Sergeant Hall's squad, so Kirby can still be the BAR man in Saunders squad. He pops up occasionally in my stories.


End file.
